


betray the moon as acolyte

by smallredboy



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1st Century CE, A Fair Dose Of Biblical Literalism, Black Aziraphale, Christianity, Crucifixion, Eclipses, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Canon, Religious Discussion, South Asian Crowley, Theology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 13:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: "And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst." Luke 23:45Aziraphale and Crowley discuss the future biggest faith all while watching its cataclysmic event.





	betray the moon as acolyte

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is weird. a disclaimer: i AM a catholic school kid, but i also haven't paid attention during mass OR religion class for the last five-ish years, so i might be a little off base in some things here. excuse me.
> 
> also i do suggest that jesus isn't actually the son of god in this fic so if you're christian like, watch out.
> 
> enjoy!

It was kind of weird to follow him around, Crowley thought, considering they knew what he was going to become in the future. It was kind of ridiculous, to think about it for too long— he was scrawny and he hung around fishermen and prostitutes and poor people, and the like. He didn’t think anybody would expect him to be the so-called son of God at first glance. He knew that was just the Creator having fun, though*.

He hummed and turned to Aziraphale. “You sure we’re not getting lost?”  
  
“There is a whole crowd going over to Calvary,” his lover said tiredly, shaking his head and keeping up his quick step. “We’re not getting lost. We’re about to see the main act.”  
  
“With the eclipse and the earthquake and all that,” he said, picking at his robes absentmindedly.

“The Creator is great at theatrics,” Aziraphale noted tiredly as he stepped towards the crowd, seeing Mary and the disciples amongst them all, Judas not there, of course.

Crowley thought about the time — the man was too busy taking his own life to attend, he reckoned**.

Aziraphale hummed and leaned against Crowley, robes brushing against one another. Of course, Crowley wasn’t able to hide his snakelike eyes very well, but Aziraphale made sure to miracle them away whenever someone looked at him too closely. He didn’t want to have anyone jump into the correct assumption that he wasn’t of this plane of existence, thank you very much.

He watched as Jesus stood in between the two thieves being crucified as well, humming quietly to himself. The hours passed slowly, all too slowly, women weeping, people cheering — some of the Romans, especially the centurion in charge — men weeping. It was all a bit depressing, how the life was still in Jesus’ eyes, how he was still going on strong.

“If you’re the son of God, come down from the cross!” they mocked, laughing at him with their small, bright eyes, burning with the evil of too many people to name, and Crowley sat and watched, bitterly. He hadn’t planned this, had taken no part on it, and he never meant to. He didn’t wish to, either.

The hours passed when the light extinguished all of a sudden. Aziraphale looked up from his comfortable spot on Crowley’s shoulder, gasping as the moon covered the sun, leaving nothing but darkness along Calvary and Jerusalem and the nearby places.

No one could see them, and Jesus was slowly dying, a wound by his heart.

Before Crowley could control himself he pulled Aziraphale into a quick kiss, gaining a yelp of surprise from him. They made sure to leave it be a gentle one, although passionate — no one wanted to disrupt Jesus’ death with two man-shaped creatures furiously making out. Crowley bit at Aziraphale’s lip, and they pulled away. And the light still didn’t come, so they decided to still kiss. Slowly, fervently— and so on.

“This man is going to be the head of the biggest faith,” Aziraphale whispered in between kisses, heated touch of skin to skin, no one seeing them. Everyone was too preoccupied with Jesus and the darkness to worry about the angel and the demon. “He doesn’t look the part, does he?”  
  
“Mm,” Crowley shrugged, “I think we can blame the Creator on that. Isn’t He going to make his ghost appear around these parts after a bit, anyway?”  
  
Aziraphale hummed. “I think that’s the case, dear.” He pulled him into another kiss. “He does have a fascination with straying humans further and further away from the truth.”  
  
“I guess so,” he said, wrapping his arms tight around Aziraphale’s pudgy, round body. He had gotten envious comments about hsi shape various times, and he had simply laughed. Crowley liked Aziraphale’s shape, anyway— it mattered to him; it was a lovely choice of a human body.

After three hours of quiet whispering, quiet kissing and so on, the sky cleared.

Jesus cried, and Crowley watched in silence— “God, why have you forsaken me?” It struck a chord with him, a too familiar chord. His face scrunched up in distaste at the memory, slowly sauntering downwards, falling, falling. Aziraphale noticed the emotion and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. He managed a weak smile.

Jesus died five minutes after the eclipse ended, and the earth started shaking.

Crowley held onto Aziraphale’s arm hard, still not used for earthquakes to exist, gritting his teeth and hissing lowly. Aziraphale stayed right in his spot, shushing Crowley gently, as the Temple broke down in two, far away from them.

“Truly this was the son of God!” The centurion spoke, face full of shock***.

Crowley drew in a breath and they walked off the scene, not sure what to do with the knowledge of what would follow in the next few centuries.

“This isn’t the event one would expect with the world’s biggest faith,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley kissed the spot behind his ear before starting to walk back home. They did blend in well with the crowds in Jerusalem, his sun-kissed skin and small eyes with Aziraphale’s thick curls and deep, rich brown skin.

“It isn’t,” he agreed, still holding hands with him, “but it is what God up there intended.”

“Just to divert humans from the truth,” he said.

Crowley clicked his tongue, a little hissing noise following the action. “Yeah.”

The rest of the day was quiet, Crowley tending to his very few plants and Aziraphale reading the few manuscripts he had managed to get ahold of.

* * *

_* Multiple times across history, God had given humans a few powers just to confuse people. Jesus was the only one that had worked out long-term, and the only one to have the biggest religion on Earth be dedicated to him._

_** According to Aziraphale’s conversation with the Metatron after the crucifixion, the guilt over what he did to Jesus wasn’t the only reason Judas took his own life. His love for men was another factor._

_*** No, it wasn’t._

 


End file.
